I always imagined I’d wait to find out if my baby was a boy or girl. I like traditions and I like surprises, and this tradition seemed like the sweetest surprise. But when I had to wait 9 months to meet my nephew Calder, I could barely stand it. I realized that when it was my turn, I’d want to know—no, need to know.
The big reveal was Thursday, and it was nothing short of amazing.
It started with the usual black-and-white blur, a game of “name that bodypart.” And then, our baby’s profile flashed across the screen. Tiny eyes, a button nose and little lips. We caught glimpses of a heart beating, arms wiggling and legs kicking. I gasped. “That’s a baby!” I kept thinking. “That’s our baby!”
I watched eagerly and cautiously, as the doctor scanned the baby’s body, taking notes and measurements, slowly feeding us bits of information. When he told us the baby had grown to a healthy size, a wave of relief came over me.
He asked, “Do you know the gender, yet?”
“No,” I said. “…do you?”
“Yup,” he said, and quietly kept typing.
And then, across the screen came a message, “I’M A BOY,” with an arrow pointing to the telltale sign.
So it turns out little Mystery Hughes is a Mister. We’re having a boy!
Rama and I have been alternately teary and giddy since we found out. It’s so easy to imagine cradling our baby boy one minute and to get quickly swept away into fretting about his teenage years the next. It seems ridiculous, but also feels impossible not to. It’s just so real, now. Our baby is no longer an “it” and certainly no longer a wish. He’s a little baby boy, and he’s growing inside me.